The Man I Met /// Izi Phoenix

Profusely somber, profound, and at once profane in the dark of voidness- “The Man I Met” is punchy with all its ars poetica. A dance with numbers and codifications where even obtrusions are sacred.

That dance with the man in black or an obstacle of truth, perhaps. Those pearly, lucent eyes, graying in the fields of a golden fiery abyss. Izi Phoenix’s “The Man I Met” is a row of symbols and rust. A prow leading to other shores, through the upheavals of madnesses and genius-

Its impractical solemn thrust of complicity is a hallowed flock of oviparous crows moving deftly, an azure magic haunched over the earth birthing fertile god(s). Its intonations have us grasping at the ribs of Izi Phoenix in so many percussive throes.

 The swollen and almost meager helping we are given here in, “The Man I Met” is all the trappings of Bushido, (samurai code). Beyond the windfall of waking life where Izi Phoenix ruminates so keenly on the absolute, where the rivers rage and divert like hairs on a blade, finally resting motionless as dusk. We can say Izi Phoenix at once sounds like Tom Waits (Mule Variations) and David Gray (Foundling).

Reaching the unfathomable with a glint, a voyage that passes for the crisp laughter of the eyes, between vertigo and a clumsy egress into a place of sage green hilltops. Maybe, “The Man I Met” is a song of whimsy and forget, glaring at oneself in the mirror nonplussed as though storming from one’s body, greeting with a charming spirit, almost garrulous with pensive and deep pockets of trance-talk. 

Written by Hari Palacio






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